


Too Tired To... (the Stammi Vicino remix)

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancing, Exhaustion, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Cup of China, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: The problem with not sleeping the night before your FS is that sleeping is all you want to do afterward. Even when your coach-inspiration-boyfriend?just kissed you for the first time. In public.





	Too Tired To... (the Stammi Vicino remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Object Lessons in the Perils of Sleep Deprivation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997454) by [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress). 



Yuuri's body didn't want to obey any more. It was done, ready to quit, the final reserves of strength he'd put into the quad flip gone and the adrenalin from the performance--from _Victor--_ finally flooding away. His arms ached as he pulled his shirt on, his feet burned when he slid on his shoes. He was just lucky that Victor had pulled him out early, while Phichit and Christophe were still posing for photos and sweet-talking the reporters.

Victor had left him alone in the locker room, maybe just sensing Yuuri needed the quiet, maybe just nervous after what had happened. It wasn't like they'd had a chance to talk about it.

Victor had kissed him. In public. Not just in public, but at an international competition, with all the cameras rolling.

It had been _good._ Victor had barely managed to hit his mouth, and it was a miracle Yuuri wasn't concussed by that drop to the ice, and all Yuuri wanted to do was be back there in Victor’s arms, kissing him again, over and over.

He threw his jacket back on after he changed and turned his phone back on while he fixed his hair and scrubbed off the last of his makeup; he never got it all on the first attempt. His family would know better than to try to text him for a while, but Phichit never bothered waiting.

Once the phone had stopped buzzing, he put his glasses back on and picked it up. As he'd expected, Phichit had sent him half-a-dozen texts. Two more came through as Yuuri was reading.

_Yuuri he's so in love with you_

_I watched him during your FS_

_I tried to take a picture but he was too far away_

_Yuuri he's IDK smitten?_

_HAD HE KISSED YOU BEFORE_

_YUURI ANSWER ME_

_Wait get on LINE that's easier_

Yuuri didn't want to get on LINE. He didn't want to text. He wanted to get back to his room and sleep for three days. _Later,_ he sent Phichit. _So tired._

To his surprise, Yurio had sent a message: _fucking gross but the flip wasn't terrible. i'll kick your ass in Rostelecom._

Yuuri sent back _You can try._

Victor was waiting for him at the door. He held an arm out, and Yuuri walked into his embrace, grateful for the support. None of his muscles wanted to move any more.

"Are you all right?" Victor said, a dozen questions contained in one.

"Silver," Yuuri said. "That's not so bad, is it?"

Victor squeezed him. "You were wonderful."

"I need to practice it," Yuuri said. "The flip."

"I need to practice believing in you, apparently." Victor guided him away from the entrance. "We've got permission to go out the back. I told them that there was a fan we were worried about."

Yuuri looked at him.

Victor shrugged, smiled. He kept walking. His arm felt good on Yuuri's shoulder; it always did. "I'm a fan. I'm worried about you. Close enough."

"You did kiss me," Yuuri said, and it was weird to say it out loud, like voicing it would change what had happened, like it might all dissolve at a touch.

"I'm sorry," Victor said. "I get ahead of myself. And when you skate--it's like you're--it's like it's something just for me."

"It was," Yuuri said. "I--you weren't wrong."

"Oh," Victor said.

They kept walking. Yuuri could hear the whirring of equipment. "Tell me you have a taxi."

"I have a taxi," Victor said.

"I know I should walk."

"You've walked enough," he said. "As your coach, I demand you get in the taxi."

Yuuri leaned further into Victor, who didn't seem to mind.

 

###

 

It was already one of Phichit's most popular Insta posts. Yuuri, his arms flung out, his eyes wide and shocked, as Victor kissed him and they dropped to the ice. He'd been pretty proud of the tags, though he'd been tempted to add something about #NoConcussions:

_#SilverKiss #TalkAboutPDA #CupofChina #IShipIt #IThinkWeAllShipIt_

Of course, you couldn't make everyone happy. _You won #gold and all you're talking about is #TheKiss,_ Guang-hong teased.

_Gonna take #gold at the #GPF, this is just the run up._

He was scrolling through his feed when Chris tapped him on the shoulder. Phichit jumped, and then was annoyed with himself; that was _exactly_ what Chris wanted. "You didn't tell me they weren't fucking," he said.

Phichit put his phone in his pocket. "I wasn't sure! _You_ were the one who said you were sure. Remember?"

"They still could be," Chris said.

"No." Phichit first met Yuuri six years ago. They had started training together when Phichit was seventeen. Phichit knew the look that had been on Yuuri's face. He'd seen it in bars, even at the rink once. That was not the look of a guy who had been getting dick on the regular. That was Yuuri's "wait, _what?"_ look. That was when Yuuri had no goddamn idea how much the guy he'd been flirting with was into him. "Trust me. I’d know."

"Damn," Chris said. “They’re--damn.”

"Yeah."

"Nice work today," Chris said. "I'll win next time, though. Don't get complacent."

"I won't," Phichit said. "And don’t think you’ll win.”

Chris grinned at him.

They hadn't talked much before this season. He was nicer than Phichit would have thought. What the hell. "We're going out, you want to come?"

"No," Chris said. "At my age, I need my beauty sleep. I'll walk to the hotel with you, though."

"Suit yourself," Phichit said. He hoped Chris hadn’t been planning on talking to Victor. That wasn’t going to be happening. He'd seen the other look on Yuuri's face before, the one he'd shot Victor as he'd stepped off the podium. "Eros," whatever. That was the look of someone who was ready to take Victor apart.

Phichit wondered if Victor knew what he was in for.

 

###

 

Victor carefully packed him into the taxi--Yuuri had to slap his hand away so he could buckle his own seatbelt--and slid in next to him. Yuuri took his hand, and Victor glanced at him, pleasure washing over his face. "I don't want--"

"Thank you," Yuuri said. "Just...thank you."

"When I realized what you were doing--" Victor said. "You should have still been angry at me."

"I was, a little," Yuuri said. He put his head back on Victor's shoulder. It felt natural. Right. _I can kiss him,_ Yuuri thought to himself. _Whenever I want to._

"I'll call for take-out," Victor said. "You need to eat."

Yuuri wanted to do a lot of things. Food hadn't been on the list. "I'm tired," he said.

"No," Victor said. "Food. You can't sleep on an empty stomach after that skate, I won't let you. Anything else can wait."

Yuuri looked over at him. _Anything else,_ he thought, and he was too tired to keep his face neutral, because Victor looked surprised, then delighted.

"Yuuri," he said. "I'm going to find somewhere that delivers katsudon and feed it to you by hand if I have to."

The taxi dropped them off--with traffic, it was almost as slow as walking, but still felt like a blessing to Yuuri's exhausted body--and Victor steered him into the hotel, into the elevator, down the hall to their room. He kissed Yuuri's hair as he slid the keycard into the slot.

Victor wasn't gentle as he wrestled Yuuri into the room, pulled off the JSF windbreaker, shoved Yuuri toward the bathroom. "Shower."

"I should tell Phichit-kun--"

"Phichit-kun can wait," Victor said firmly. "Yurio can wait."

"...how did you know he--"

"He _called_ me," Victor said. "I thought I might go deaf in one ear."

"Oh," Yuuri said.

"We can talk about it later," Victor said. "Do you want me to--"

Yuuri pulled his face down, pressed their lips together.

Victor pushed Yuuri’s hair back, took Yuuri's glasses in his hands and slid them off. _Smitten._

Maybe he was. Maybe they both were.

"Yuuri," Victor said, pushing him away and keeping Yuuri’s glasses. "Shower. I'll call for the food."

"Don't--" Yuuri's hand lingered on Victor's back (when had it gotten there?). "Stay--stay with me."

"I'll be here," Victor said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," Yuuri said. "Okay."

It felt like so much work to strip his clothes off again, but the shower was good, hot water hitting his damaged body just right. For a second, he wondered why he'd ended up doing this in the first place. A lifetime of pain, feet that never healed, and for what?

For the crowd. For the screaming and the beauty of skating and the rush and--

Victor'd kissed him.

He'd be jerking off in the shower by now, normally. He was too tired for that, and Victor (Victor had _kissed him_ ) was too close.

Victor was pacing around the room when he got out, saying something in Russian on his phone. Yuuri was too tired to understand or care. He sat on the edge of the bed--as hard and uncomfortable as ever, despite his exhaustion--and tried to focus. Victor sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

 _"Da,"_ he said, and followed it with more words Yuuri couldn't begin to understand. Victor slipped his arm around Yuuri, and oh, Victor had taken his jacket off at some point. That was nicer. Softer. His tie was off, too.

Yuuri put his face up, into Victor's open collar, and kissed the side of his neck.

Victor stopped talking. After a moment, he muttered something into the phone and put it down. "Yuuri," he said, so gently, like he was afraid something would break if he spoke too loudly.

"This is nice," Yuuri said.

"Yes." Victor put a hand in his hair. That was nice too.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Ah," Victor said. "That's the food. Let me--"

"Do we have to eat?"

"You do," he said, and kissed his hair before he went to the door.

The katsudon was all right, a little sadder for its journey to the hotel, but it was hot and it had protein and all of that mattered more than anything else. "We'll get it again when we're back at Hatsetsu," Victor promised, but the words barely registered.

What registered was Victor's patience, Victor's arm around his waist as he ate. Victor taking the empty dish away, and finishing his own food with a cautious eye on Yuuri. "Let's get you to bed," he said. He pulled the covers back and let Yuuri slide between them.

"Stay?" Yuuri asked.

The mattress dipped under Victor's weight. "If you promise to stay with me." Victor wound his fingers into Yuuri's.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

 

### 

 

Chris didn't expect to see any messages from Victor, but he wasn't displeased when he got the text. _U up?_

_You know I am._

_Funny._

_I thought you'd be busy._

_He's asleep._

_Trouble in paradise?_

_That was last night. He's just asleep._

_I never thought you'd fall in love._

For a minute Chris thought he'd gone too far, but the answer came: _Me neither._

Victor had always seemed so distant. A star you could look at, chase after, but never touch. Chris had hardly recognized the happy drunk that had appeared on Instagram the other night. The gulf between Sober Yuuri Katsuki and Drunk Yuuri Katsuki was big, but nothing compared to Victor the Ice Prince and Victor the Coach in Love.

 _He skated well,_ Chris sent.

_It'll be gold next, you wait._

Who the fuck _was_ this guy, and what had he done with Victor? He couldn't be happy like this. On the sidelines, watching someone else attempt his quad flip. But--

Had he been happy before? He'd been gracious and pretty and smug but...who knew about _happy?_ It had taken Chris a long time to start thinking about life after skating. Maybe Victor hadn't, before now.

Well. He couldn't challenge Victor the way he wanted to, but he could still issue a challenge.

 _I'll kick his ass next time,_ Chris said.

_I don’t think so._

 

###

 

Victor had eventually gotten to sleep, his arm around Yuuri's waist, his face buried in Yuuri's soft, damp hair. He had expected to wake slowly, maybe to Yuuri's gentle stirring, or to the alarm he'd set on his phone, which started whisper-soft and gained volume the longer it was neglected.

What he woke to, instead, was Yuuri's leg on his, Yuuri's breath hot against his neck, Yuuri's hands--

Yuuri's _body--_

"Good morning," Yuuri said, his voice low, confident, _hot._

He’d turned over in his sleep; now Victor was facing the door, Yuuri’s arms around his waist, pinned by Yuuri's thigh.

Victor hadn't realized how much he would like that.

He swallowed. He'd been waiting so long for the Yuuri he'd met at the banquet. It had taken him so long to realize that that Yuuri had been there all along, not even really _hidden,_ just part of a Yuuri who was so much more than the man who'd taken his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Everything about Yuuri was _more._

If he wasn't careful, his feelings would just swallow him and there'd be nothing left. When he'd left his skating life behind and run to Hatsetsu, he'd known it would change him. He hadn't expected anything like _this._ He'd thought he'd been in love.

He'd been in lust. Infatuated.

He hadn't felt like _this._

He didn't ever want to stop feeling like this.

Yuuri shifted his weight and pulled his leg in, pushing Victor back against his chest. If he moved his hips, just a little, Victor would be able to feel--

"Did you sleep all right?" Yuuri's left hand was on Victor's own hip, just above his thigh.

Victor wanted to say something flirty. Maybe an affectionate comment on how soundly Yuuri had slept. But all his mind could register was the pressure on his hip. Yuuri's fingers. The warmth of Yuuri's body, close, so close.

"Viiiictor," Yuuri said. "I thought you were awake..."

"You keep surprising me," Victor said.

"I just woke up," Yuuri said. He nuzzled the back of Victor's neck. "I can't have surprised you this much already."

"You always--" He heard his breath catch. He wanted to beg but he didn't even know what he wanted to beg for. "Always," he repeated, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Do you want to turn around?" Yuuri asked. "Or should I just--" His hand moved on Victor's hip.

There was nothing ambiguous about what Yuuri was offering. "This is...this is good," Victor said, because he wanted _everything_ and this was a good enough place to start.

Yuuri's hand slid forward, up, into the waistband of his briefs. "Tell me," Yuuri said. "Tell me if it's good."

"It's good," Victor said. "Please, just--please."

"If you keep talking like that, Victor--"

"Yuuuuri," he said, and he didn't mean it to come out as a whine, but it was, needy and thin.

Yuuri's thumb stroked up, down, along Victor’s stomach, up to his navel, down, not down far enough. "Tell me," he said, again, into Victor's neck.

"Yuuri," Victor said, "just--please. Just touch me, please--"

Yuuri sighed, the softest, sweetest, sexiest sound Victor had ever heard, and his hand sunk into Victor's briefs.

Victor shifted back as Yuuri rocked forward, and he'd seen Yuuri in the locker room and in the onsen and he'd _seen_ Yuuri, but he hadn't _felt_ him. Oh. _Oh,_ he felt good. Yuuri's hand was sure and steady on him, his grip solid, his breath hot at Victor's neck. "Victor," he said. "I can't believe you--can't believe you--"

 _I love you,_ he wanted to say, but he knew it was too soon, knew it would be too soon even if Yuuri hadn't been so--so _Yuuri._ But he did, he _did,_ and he wanted to spend the rest of his life exploring the shape of it, learning every inch of Yuuri's body, feeling Yuuri's sure fingers on his cock in the mornings and Yuuri collapsing beside him at night.

"I won't--won't last," he said.

"It's all right," Yuuri said. "You can come for me."

Victor closed his eyes. How had he--

_Sometimes I can't believe you're real._

Yuuri said something behind his ear, a Japanese phrase he didn't recognize, and then his lips touched the nape of Victor's neck again. Was that word _beautiful?_

Yuuri's hand moved faster and his grip tightened, and Victor writhed in his embrace. He moaned, and felt Yuuri's breath come faster in response. _Don't stop,_ he thought. _Please, please don't--_ "Please," he managed to stammer out, though he couldn't put words to what he wanted, not any more.

"Oh," Yuuri said, "you're--"

Victor didn't hear what he said next; the blood rushed too loudly in his ears. He wanted to open his eyes, twist his body so he could see Yuuri, see his beautiful face, see--

Too late, too _much--_

Yuuri kissed his neck as he came, still murmuring in Japanese, his grip steady and perfect and _everything about him_ was so good, so _right--_

"Good?" Yuuri asked, when Victor had stopped shaking. Victor could still feel how hard he still was.

Victor turned around in Yuuri's embrace, threw his arms around Yuuri so he could finally, _finally_ hold him tight, kiss him the way he'd dreamt of. _You're perfect,_ he thought. But Yuuri wouldn't want to hear that. Not now. Maybe someday. "Good," he said, and reached down. Yuuri's cock was bigger hard, bigger than Victor had expected, the tip already slick with precome. Victor wanted to taste Yuuri, but Yuuri already had other ideas, pulling him into another kiss, rutting against Victor's thigh. "Tell me," Victor said. "Tell me what--"

"'s good," Yuuri said, his voice raw. "Just--"

Too soon to know what Yuuri would like, so Victor just jerked him hard and fast; they'd have time for more later. Hours with Yuuri, Yuuri's impossible beauty, Yuuri's eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he moaned and thrust and Yuuri, _Yuuri--_

 _Lucky, lucky,_ Victor's mind chanted, as Yuuri's breath caught and his body shook. _I'm the luckiest man alive._

 

Yuuri insisted on another shower, and Victor needed one desperately, so it was another twenty minutes before Victor was clean and dressed and ready for breakfast.

Yuuri was in his socks when he got out of the bathroom, tracing his footwork on the carpet. Victor stood in the doorway and watched him, the music playing in his head as Yuuri moved.

Yuuri noticed him after a little while, pulled back into himself. "Oh," he said. "Sorry--"

"Don't be. I could watch you move all day long.” He walked over and pulled Yuuri into his arms, holding him like they were about to dance. "How are you feeling?"

"Wonderful," Yuuri said, and took the lead.

A samba, Victor thought, though he'd never really danced ballroom, just let others guide him through the steps. Yuuri's pace was quick, and he had to pay attention as they spun around the room. "Should you be--"

"It'll help me loosen up." Yuuri was still impossibly graceful, considering what he'd done to his body yesterday. "I still have an exhibition to skate."

"You still need to eat breakfast," he said.

"I do," he said. "Should we go out? I'm tired of eating in here, but I'm not sure I'm ready to share you."

"I'll have to go out either way."

Yuuri smiled. "Maybe I"ll show you off." He dipped Victor, and Victor felt the thrill of it all over again. Like they were the only two people in the world. Victor wanted--

He wanted so much. And finally, _finally,_ what he wanted seemed possible.

"On your rest day," he said, as Yuuri pulled him back up. "When we're back in Hatsetsu. Let me take you somewhere. A day trip, maybe. A hotel. I love your family, but--I don't want to share you, either. I want you all to myself for a little while."

"I'd like that," Yuuri said.

Victor kissed him; it was impossible not to, impossible not to crave a second kiss after the first.

"Okay," Yuuri said, stepping back after a dozen perfect kisses. "We...I need to eat. We'll...we'll come back here?"

"Yes," Victor said. "You need the rest."

"I don't want _rest,"_ Yuuri said, and Victor felt a little thrill in his chest, dropping lower. "But we could. Later." He kissed Victor's cheek.

"I'll stay in bed with you," he said.

"I’d like that. If you promise not to sneak away."

"I’m not leaving,” Victor said, and pulled him close again. “I promise.”


End file.
